The Diffrence
by fvwibv8y3474btg
Summary: Bryan and Brooklyn are complete oppisites in just about everyway. How is it then that they are secretly related? Oneshot... maybe... depends. Rated T R&R please.


A/N: I know this is really wierd, but it was for a contest on Deviantart, and I liked it. I may write more chapters. if I get nice reveiws. Anyway, BryanxBrooklyn is becoming my favorite pairing very quickly for no reason at all. I'm deffiantely going to write another fanfic with this pairing soon.

Soft footsteps reverberated around the empty stone hall. The cameras switched to watch his movement, but he didn't care, nor did he notice, he just walked on outside into the thick and piling snow. The cold of the Russian winter should have woken him from his trance like state. But he walked on. His bare feet leaving thick prints in the snow, rubbing his soles red and raw. Still he walked on. The cold air hit his bare chest. His whole body shivered, but this didn't deter him.

He knew that he should cry, that he should scream and shout and sob. But he simply felt nothing. It had stolen all feelings, all pain, all caring. He wanted to hate this nothingness, wanted to want. but he had nothing, was nothing, could never be anything. It was stolen from him, all of it. He wanted to destroy It, but It was all he had. he knew he needed It. Still this nothingness seemed to driving him into insanity...

No, that wasn't right, he couldn't have insanity, couldn't have anything.

_' Let them have it.'_ The voice whispered in his head. _' Let them have it all. Let them hide it away in some tiny package. Let them keep it. Let them. you can't hurt this way.'_

But nor could he feel. Not anything. "Give me something." he pleaded with It. "Give me something. This nothingness... it won't... I can't." There were no words to describe the feeling the un-feelings he had. Because he was sure no one had ever had... no, he was sure no one **hadn't **ever **not had** something like this. The whole backwardness of it all was confusing.

Wait, confusion... no he didn't have that too.

_' why? why should i Let you have something? it will make it all hurt more. tell me why i should Let you have something that will hurt.'_

"Because I want more than nothingness."

_'you don't even have that.'_ It pointed out. Yes, that seemed right. He had nothing, not even nothingness.

"Then Let me have some defense from the pain. Please." He begged with it.

_' the only thing i have that they didn't take is anger. do you want this?'_ It asked

"Yes, please." He nearly begged.

There was silence for a few long moments, then It asked a hesitant question. _'do you Want me?'_

There was warmth in It. There was warmth in what It could give him. "Yes, I want you."

_'tell me what you want. tell me my name.'_ This time it was It's turn to beg.

"I want my anger, I want you Falborg."

He felt warmth in the frozenness of the Russian winter, a warmth that he would have forever, a warmth they could never steal, never give to someone else. It was his, only his. And he thrived in it.

* * *

Bryan Kuznetov looked at the boy in suspended-sleep in the tank. This person was him and not him. This boy was his emotions, his love and pain, his smiles and his frowns. This boy was his talent. This boy was everything he was not, his mirror opposite. 

He hated this boy with everything he was. He hated this boy for his hate, for all he had. He wanted to hurt the boy, get his emotions back. He placed his hand on the tank, about to punch with his other hand. But he felt a draining sensation; the boy was stealing his anger and hate. He jerked away quickly, starring at the boy with fear and pain...

Fear...? Pain...? The boy had given him back his fear and pain. He had more! And yet... he had less. The boy had taken some of his anger and hate.

With fear he reached out for Falborg. For someone who had felt no fear for two long years this little bit was suffocating, until of course he felt the reassuring touch of Falborg in his mind.

_' i'm still here. no worries. just keep away from this boy. he will take everything from you until you have nothing left if you touch him again. You should leave now.'_

Bryan nodded and moved away from the tank, and the sleeping boy quickly. He hurried for the door, but not before allowing one last glance at the red-haired boy, whom he was told had teal eyes, with the pale skin that in comparison to him made the Russian boy look like a ghost.

This boy was his exact opposite. This boy was to be named Brooklyn Mason.

A/N:

Thanks for reading, reveiw please.


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